


Temporary Escape

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Hair-pulling, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Spanking, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Widowmaker has been captured by Overwatch. She decides that using McCree is her best best for escape. And if she gets to have a little fun doing it... well, that works too.





	Temporary Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Got a "request" asking for McCree/Widowmaker: "Widowmaker is caught and tries to seduce McCree to escape. McCree turns out to be a bit of a dom. Widow then enjoys it so much she decides to stick around for a while. for clarity I mean hair pulling, spanking, tying to the cell-bed, nothing super intense." So expect some of that. ;P 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s been days now. Widowmaker sits alone in her cell, back straight and gaze fixed on the door. Any moment now, someone would be coming through that door to give her her dinner.

Not that she planned to eat anything the enemy gave her. No, she was much more interested in who it would be that came through the door this time. Boring and childish though some of them were, others were almost interesting under the right circumstances.

And here’s one of them now.

A knock on the door precedes McCree’s entrance. He steps into the room with a tray of food in his hands. “Dinner time,” he announces, setting it on the desk on the other side of the room. He eyes the untouched food from a few hours ago and sighs. “Still not eatin’, huh? It’s been days.”

“I am well aware,” Widowmaker says. She meets McCree’s eyes for a moment, then takes a few seconds to look up and down his body slowly, appraisingly. She allows herself the slightest quirk of the lips. McCree averts his gaze to the side, either annoyed or a touch embarrassed. The blush on his face is hard to place sometimes, but Widowmaker is willing to bet it’s the latter. This is not the first hint she has given him, after all.

McCree had been one of the few familiar faces Widowmaker could remember. Gerard occasionally worked with Blackwatch and got along well with Reyes, who had a habit of bringing friends whenever he came to visit, one of whom had been Jesse McCree. And if she was remembering correctly, McCree never passed up an opportunity to pay her a compliment.

It was probably all bluster back then. But now…

She stands. McCree’s eyes immediately fly back to hers, his hand tense at his side and ready to draw his gun at any moment.

“No need for that,” she tells him, raising her hands. She drops her gaze to McCree’s crotch and lets her gaze linger. She licks her lips. McCree relaxes a little bit. “I simply…”

She’s in front of him now. Widowmaker lowers one hand and slowly brings it to McCree’s face. McCree’s eyes are narrow and suspicious, but he lets her touch him anyway.

Good. That will make this easier.

She leans in. He doesn’t flinch.

Widowmaker presses her lips to McCree’s gently at first. She’s far from hesitant, but she needs to test the waters. She keeps her eyes open and watches McCree’s. They don't slip closed on the first kiss, but on the second, as soon as she gets more aggressive, they do. They slide shut and his mouth falls open, willingly letting her inside…

… Until she feels a hand grip her jaw tightly and squeeze, halting the movement of her lips and her tongue. McCree pushes Widowmaker off himself and she staggers back a step, uncharacteristically graceless. McCree is on her again in a second, one hand on her shoulder pushing her back insistently, but not aggressively, against the wall.

She looks up at him, face twisted in a snarl. McCree glowers back. “Don't think I don't know what you're doin’,” he says, leaning in closer. Widowmaker can feel his breath hot on her cheek as he moves to speak directly into her ears. “You've been makin’ eyes at me for days. Sitting on that bed like it's a throne and you want me at your feet.”

He growls and pulls back. Widowmaker meets his gaze. McCree grins. He exhales, breath still carrying the lingering scent of sweet tobacco, and Widowmaker is suddenly reminded of Gerard smoking off the edge of a balcony. But the memory ends too soon, cut short by McCree's harsh, raspy laughter. “You think I'm your ticket outta here, don't you?”

He doesn't wait for an answer - he dives in for another kiss instead, massaging her lips open and sliding his tongue between them. Widowmaker considers biting him, now that he's spelled out her plan so perfectly that there's no way she can pull it off, but a hand trails down her side and stops to grasp her hip, and without even realizing what she's doing her mouth falls open further on a breathy moan.

McCree pulls away, apparently satisfied for the time being. “You think I'm just gonna let you have your way with me and you'll slip on outta here like the snake you are.”

“I am no snake,” Widowmaker spits, defiant once more.

“No, guess crawlin’ out like a spider would be more appropriate,” McCree concedes, and if Widowmaker was capable of feeling passionate about anything, she thinks she would probably find his smarmy tone infuriating. “But whatever. You gonna answer me or not?”

Widowmaker shakes her head. “There was no plan,” she lies. “This cell is so pitifully boring.”

“So you thought you'd have a go at me to try and entertain yourself? Yeah, I'm not buyin’ it.” McCree crosses his arms and fixes her with a bemused look. “But if you really wanted to convince me…”

He pauses. Grins. Beckons her over with the crook of a finger. And Widowmaker goes to him, hips swaying. He might have figured her out, but she hasn't given up. And if he's so willing to step into her web…

She reaches him and he spins them both around so he can shove Widowmaker down onto the cell bed. He wastes no time in climbing on top of her and kissing her again, and she kisses back just as hard, wanting to encourage him but also not willing to be outdone. He lowers his hips, pressing them to Widowmaker’s, and she grinds up into him. McCree is clearly enjoying himself: she can already feel a slight bulge against her pelvis.

This is almost too easy.

McCree’s tongue traces her lips before he pulls away with a grin. He rolls his hips into hers again at just the right angle, and to her surprise just as much as his, her eyes flutter shut and she moans.

McCree pauses. When Widowmaker’s eyes open, she glares at him defiantly. But McCree is still grinning, smug and haughty. She hates to admit it’s a good look on him.

“Well, would you look at that…” he says. His hand slides between her legs and he cups the curve of her groin, middle finger slipping along the seam of her pussy through the tight fabric of her bodysuit.

Widowmaker inhales sharply, trying not to buck against his touch, and only manages to restrain herself a little bit -- not nearly enough to escape McCree’s notice. So he keeps rubbing, changing the amount of pressure behind his touch -- light on the upstroke, harder on the down, then harder coming back up. It’s like electricity shooting through her, all the way down to her toes. It’s not the first time she’s tried to seduce someone for her own gain, but she can’t remember the last time someone actually tried to make her feel good, too.

Widowmaker debates trying to hide that she’s enjoying this for half a moment, but decides not to. She’s trying to convince McCree she wants him, after all, and why should she _always_ have to lie?

So she lets herself go, just a little. Widowmaker allows her eyes to slip shut and a moan to pass between her lips as McCree rubs at her. Her hips jerk into his touch, trying to encourage more, and he gives it to her readily. She’s a long way from getting off, but this is as good a start as any.

Until McCree pulls his hand away. She looks at him with a start and watches as he undoes his pants and tugs his erection free. When she looks up at him, McCree shrugs. “Didn’t seem fair you were the only one gettin’ touched.”

Widowmaker understands immediately. She reaches out and runs her thumb along the head of McCree’s cock at first, then slides it down the shaft. McCree hums in pleasure and she takes his cock fully in her hand (not daring to admit out loud how impressed she is). She moves her hand down to stroke him--

\--and he grabs her wrist and yanks it off.

“Merde!” she snaps. McCree’s grip is tight, too tight, and it almost hurts. But McCree doesn’t seem to care.

“I didn’t say to do it like that,” he says, and his eyes dart down to her lips and back again. Once more, Widowmaker understands him immediately, and she wants to tell him to fuck off, but his tone and the way he’s looking at her, eyes dark with lust… it sends a wave of arousal through her. She can’t help herself -- she wants this.

So she doesn’t hesitate. Widowmaker shifts on the bed so she’s on her knees and leans forward, ass in the air, to take McCree’s cock into her mouth. She feels a hand at the back of her head urging her on at the same time she hears McCree’s filthy, guttural moan and she can’t help but moan in response, loving the way he feels in her mouth and how insistent his hand on her head feels.

She feels the fingers on the back of her head tighten in her hair and Widowmaker pushes forward, taking McCree in all the way to the base. She moans and swallows around him and McCree’s hips spasm, forcing himself deeper into her mouth. She gags, but doesn’t stop; instead, she moves and slides off the bed so she’s kneeling at his feet. Widowmaker only pops off McCree’s dick long enough for him to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and give her better access. The moment they’re in a more comfortable position, Widowmaker dives back onto him, taking him back in her mouth greedily.

McCree moans and jerks his hips into her mouth. He shifts forward a little bit and grabs Widowmaker’s ponytail, tugging it hard enough to pull her off him again so he can stand. As soon as he’s up he wordlessly urges her back onto him, this time not waiting for Widowmaker to take him in all the way. Instead, he begins to thrust in and out of her mouth, happily fucking her face with abandon.

Widowmaker braces herself, grabbing onto the backs of McCree’s thighs both for support and to encourage him to keep going. She can hardly believe how much she’s enjoying herself -- she had long thought having fun during sex was something she was no longer capable of -- but now that she knows she is, she wants more. And she gets it when McCree thrusts one last time, hitting the back of her throat. He comes in her mouth and she swallows everything she can, even with the awkward angle.

McCree pulls away and Widowmaker looks up at him expectantly. He huffs a short laugh and takes her face in one hand, squeezing her jaw to force her mouth open. She sticks her tongue out and shows McCree the last few drops of his cum still lingering in her mouth. He shudders.

“Oh… now that’s a good girl,” he says. Widowmaker almost bristles at being called _girl_ , but McCree pulls her back up to standing before she can say anything. He slips the neckline of her bodysuit open and slides it off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Once her sleeves are off, he takes a second to flick one of her nipples with the pad of his thumb. Widowmaker doesn’t bother to suppress her moan.

“You like that, huh?” he asks, doing it again. She doesn’t nod, but her eyes flutter shut, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. McCree laughs and slips the rest of her suit down, slowly revealing the rest of her stomach, her hips, and…

McCree slips a finger between Widowmaker’s legs, rubbing lightly at her clit. She’s wet, and the way he spreads her slick around as he rubs her off feels _delightful_. She can already feel herself getting close, even with so little stimulation…

But again, McCree pulls his hands away, right when she’s just about to fall over the edge. Widowmaker whines involuntarily, hating herself for just a moment before McCree turns her around. Strong arms wrap around her middle from behind, and she feels his dick, already starting to get hard again, slide between her thighs. He rocks his hips back and forth gently to tease her.

McCree lifts slowly, with every gentle thrust of his hips coming closer to Widowmaker’s clit. He slides easily between her labia now, and with one more thrust he’ll be there--

But of course, it’s not that easy. McCree pulls back, again, and this time Widowmaker almost yells in protest. She manages to hold back at the last second, though, and McCree presses a kiss to her neck, right below her ear.

“What was that?” he asked. “Did you want somethin’?”

Widowmaker’s breath hitches. She nods, just the smallest twitch of her head. McCree grabs on her ponytail again and pulls.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough the first time.” He nips at her ear and Widowmaker moans. Slower this time, McCree repeats: “I _said_ , did you want something?”

“Yes,” Widowmaker breathes. And that seems to be the magic word: McCree pushes her off him and bends her over the bed. Widowmaker turns just in time to see him bend down to grab his pants and pull the belt from its loops. He grins at her darkly as he approaches her again, and Widowmaker feels a chill of fear and apprehension at the sight of him pulling the belt taut.

She can’t wait to see what he does with it.

McCree leans over Widowmaker, cock brushing against the cleft of her ass as he reaches for her wrists. He guides them to the far end of the bed, presses them against the pole sticking out at the back, and winds the belt around them, holding her in place. He pulls it tight and closes the loop.

“Wish I had something proper to do this with, but this’ll have to do for now,” McCree mutters. And he’s right; Widowmaker is sure she could get out of this in half a second at most, but she’s too intrigued (and turned on) to think of resisting him at this point. She simply adjusts her wrists so the belt’s leather doesn’t cut into her skin quite as hard and waits.

McCree lifts up off her and takes a step back to admire his handiwork. As he does, he takes a moment to grope her ass and spread her cheeks apart. If the way he whistles is any indication, he likes what he sees.

He lets go for a brief second before spanking her, hard. Widowmaker arches her back and groans, lifting her hips in case he decides to do it again.

He does, and the _smack_ rings out in the empty room. “You ready?” McCree asks.

Widowmaker nods, unable to form the words through the pleasure of the sting at her backside. Within the second, she feels the head of McCree’s cock press against her entrance, and she turns her eyes to his so she can watch him as he pushes inside.

Once he’s inside her, McCree pauses. She isn’t sure if it’s to give her time to adjust or to tease her even more, but Widowmaker decides it’s time she took matters into her own hands regardless. She pushes back against McCree, rocking her hips and forcing some movement until he spanks her again and pulls her hair hard. She goes still.

“What’s that?” he asks, entirely too smug. “You know you gotta ask nicely if you want somethin’.”

“Fuck me,” Widowmaker says without hesitation. It’s her best chance of finally, finally getting what she wants.

And to his credit, McCree does as she asks. He starts off torturously slowly, sliding in and out of her so carefully Widowmaker swears she can feel every centimeter he moves. But McCree seems to get bored of that rather quickly and he picks up the pace to something much more satisfying.

He reaches around Widowmaker to squeeze her breasts as he continues to thrust, in and out, in and out. Widowmaker lets herself get lost in the feeling, her head hanging low and her mouth wide open as she pants and moans, letting McCree know just how much this is affecting her in the hopes that he’ll keep giving her more. And he does: the more she presses back against him, the more she squeezes around his cock, the faster and harder he goes.

Widowmaker cries out as McCree changes angle just the slightest bit. Her eyes are squeezed shut in pleasure, but she still feels like she can practically see the way he’s smirking at her, proud of himself for finally finding the spot inside her that drives her crazy. He rams into it again and again until at last, the pressure that had been building inside of her releases. Widowmaker comes with a cry, body tensing and untensing in waves. She feels limp; were it not for the belt helping to support her, she’s certain she would have collapsed by now.

McCree grunts, apparently caught off guard, but keeps thrusting. “That all you got?” he asks, leaning forward and crowding against her back. She can feel his breath at her ear, can feel a drop of sweat fall onto her skin.

“ _Jamais_ ,” she hisses back, without the normal force behind it. Widowmaker pushes back against McCree, more out of defiance than anything, and he squeezes her breast again, thrusts into her hard, and she comes once more, her vision going dark and her mind fuzzing at the edges.

She hardly notices when McCree’s hips stutter and lose their rhythm, but she does notice when he pulls out of her. She whimpers at the loss of his dick filling her up, but soon she realizes why: bursts of cum splatter against her back and her ass, and McCree’s breath comes out in thick and heavy pants.

Widowmaker comes back to consciousness first. She slips out of her bonds and rubs at her wrists a moment. She looks between McCree and the door, knowing that if there’s any time for her to escape, now is it.

She takes a step and moves to put her bodysuit back on, but as soon as she does McCree’s arms whips out to grab her wrist. They stare at each other a moment, sizing each other up.

McCree lets go of her wrist. Widowmaker sits back down on the bed while the cowboy redresses himself. She watches him silently, knowing there’s no point in words now.

Once he’s cleaned up and decent again, McCree heads to the door. But before he goes, he says, “Make sure you eat up. I’ll be back in to check on you later.”

He closes the door behind him on his way out, and Widowmaker smirks to herself. This attempt may have failed, but there is always the next one.

Maybe being Overwatch’s prisoner isn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> If you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1122210346939244544). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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